


Corrupt

by L_avIsfolket



Series: Corrupt [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, But also a character piece, Case Fic, Dialogue Heavy, Friendship, Gen, I am new to this and it shows, Prison, Slow Burn, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-05 07:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_avIsfolket/pseuds/L_avIsfolket
Summary: Jones entered the flat, looking around. His eyes stopped on the bottle of wine standing on the table, half empty now. He looked at Neal, something resembling worry in his eyes."I hope you're not liquoring yourself up because...?""Because tomorrow I am going back to prison where, in fact, I belong?", Neal asked, drily.Suddenly, Jones looked more awkward that he’d ever seen him before.





	1. One Day Before, 9:30 PM

### One Day Before, 9:30 pm

Neal was enjoying the last glass of good wine he may have in a long time, when he heard the knock on the door. 

"Coming", he shouted towards the door, having pretty good idea of who may be on the other side. Though the actual view surprised him, but only a little. 

"Jones", he said, hoping that the disappointment wasn't showing on his face. He knew that for a conman, he sometimes had issues with keeping his emotions hidden. 

"Caffrey. I thought we should talk, before... Tomorrow. I hope it is not too late?", he asked, looking at Neal expectantly. 

"No, it is fine. Sure. Please, come in"

"Thanks"

Jones entered the flat, looking around. His eyes stopped on the bottle of wine standing in the table, half empty now. He looked at Neal, something resembling worry in his eyes. 

"I hope you're not liquoring up because...?"

"Because tomorrow I am going back to prison where, technically, I belong?", Neal asked, drily. 

Suddenly, Jones looked the most awkward he'd ever seen him. 

Neal sighed. 

"Relax. I just like having a glass of wine before sleep. Please, have a seat. Do you want some?"

"Do you have beer?" 

"Yeah, I should have something", Neal answered and mumbled something about FBI agents and their outrageously bad taste for liquor. Then he went to his fridge, procuring a bottle of beer after a moment. "Any update on the case?" he asked, as he handed the beer to Jones together with the bottle opener.

"Nothing. For now, I am just sniffing around and try to make my cover look credible", the agent answered, his eyes on the bottle of beer, recognizing the brand immediately. "Is it...?"

"Peter comes over often", Neal shrugged, sitting down. "If there is no update, then what do you want to talk about?", he asked, straight to the point. 

"So, yeah, uhm", he paused, "tomorrow. I have a shift, when you are going to be brought in. And probably, I will be the one to...", again, the awkwardness.

Neal's stomach twisted and Jones awkwardness made it even worse. 

It also surprised Neal. He doubted that even Peter would be this awkward and he was much closer with him that Jones has ever been. Neal liked Jones and he believed that the feeling was mutual, maybe they were even friends. They had each other's back during the operations and cared about each other's safety. Occasionally they snarked at each other, but it was nothing more than harmless bickering. Usually Jones was friendly, respectful and professional, though Neal lived under no illusion that Jones didn't allow himself to forget that Neal was a convict and a criminal, doing his time and not exactly to be trusted. 

So why suddenly Neal felt like Jones was so awkward about something, that while it made Neal nervous, was nothing more than a standard procedure for every convict? A convict that he still was, even, if it was sometimes easy to forget, for him and the people around alike. 

"...to process me", Neal finished, looking calm as he took a sip of his wine. He needed to keep his calm facade intact. No cracks. Maybe some bad joke here and there. "Including the strip search and everything", he continued, without missing a beat. "You can be blunt, I am familiar with the procedure", he finished, drily.

Which made Jones look even more awkward. 

"So, you are okay with that?"

"It’s like I have much of a choice", Neal answered and before Jones could protest that this time he had more of a choice than usually, he continued, "I mean, honestly, I’d rather it was conducted by a total stranger, but in the end, it’s just what I said, a standard protocol procedure. I will be fine", he finished, still seeming calm, but then, his stomach twisted again, thinking about what was going to happen the next day. He looked at Jones, sitting at his table, in his nice apartment, drinking beer with him like an equal. Tomorrow the same guy will give him order to strip and shove his gloved fingers in his mouth.

And he will be able to do nothing, but just stand there helplessly, and obey. 

(Though, he may at least snark at Jones, once or twice. At least he knew that whatever Jones’ idea of retaliation was, it varied from amusing to annoying, instead of frightening) 

Neal wondered if Jones would be delicate or his no-nonsense military attitude would win and he would go all rough and commanding on him. 

Neal wasn't sure which option he hated more. 

Yes, obviously, technically it was an undercover op and it was all a part of the show. Except, it wasn't. Because Neal was coming back where, technically, he should be stuck for years and the treatment he would get was exactly the one he should be getting now. He was going there as himself, not under any alias and he was expected to act as, well, himself, just with a slight, FBI-induced twist to it. 

And Jones' role as a CO might be just a cover, but Neal wasn't sure if it felt just like a cover to him. 

Because the convict and a guard dynamic they were supposed to play out while undercover? The weight of the tracking a anklet on his leg was a reminder that it wasn't far away from their actual dynamic. 

And if he wanted the tracking anklet to be his only problem, he needed to accept that Jones was calling the shots on this one. 

(Moderately calling the shots, of course)

"Hey, man. Caffrey. Are you okay? Neal?", he suddenly heard Jones asking, concern showing in his voice. Neal realized he may have zoned out for longer than he thought. 

Or maybe his face was more expressive than he gave himself credit for.

"Yeah, sure, just thinking about the op", he answered, which was as much the truth as it was a lie of omission.

"Hey, man. You know you can trust me, right?"

_Could he?_

Neal was torn between appreciating, even feeling touched by Jones’ concern and hating that the agent chose this particular op to stop being his usual, professional, no-nonsense self and act like his babysitter. 

It was time to turn the tables. 

"I know", Neal nodded. "The real question is if you know you can trust me", Neal said, slowly, watching Jones carefully, examining his reaction, looking for doubt, hesitation, anything. 

The agent hesitated, taking his time to answer. Because there was no simple answer to this question. He would lie, if he said "yes", but he couldn't say that it would his thoughts and feelings well if he just said "no".

Neal waited, staring at him. 

Jones sighed. 

"I trust that you will do your best not to get me killed. And that you want to get out of there as much as I do. Much more, probably. Seems fair?", he said, finally, with a dry, crooked smile forming on his face.

"Seems fair", Neal answered, his smile equally crooked and dry. "But I need to warn you about something" 

"That there is more than one way for you to get out of Sing Sing?", Jones asked, only half-jokingly. 

Neal chuckled, humourlessly. 

"That too, though this time, it is not my plan A. But there is one more thing"

Jones looked at him, expectantly. .

Neal hesitated for a moment, as if he wondered how to explain the issue so he actually gets understood well. 

"I spent four years in prison, which means that, whether I liked it or not, I had to adapt to this world", he paused, looking at Jones, searching his face for reaction. The agent just nodded, prompting him to continue, patiently waiting to hear whatever Neal had to say. "It is quite possible that... You won't recognize me there. I may seem like a completely different person to you and not only because you will see me wearing the worst shade of orange human eyes have ever seen", the humourless chuckle, again. Jones joined him this time, probably mocking his usual fashion choices or something. "Anyway, the reason why I am telling you that is because in order for this to work, I need you to remember that no matter what I say or do, I am on your side and if I go off-script, I probably have a plan to get us both out of the situation at hand in one piece. Even, if at the moment it may not seem like it. Especially, since it is quite possible that we will be forced to improvise a lot" 

Jones nodded, slowly. For all he knew, what he just heard could also be a part of some grander scheme of Caffrey's, whatever he wanted to achieve this time. He wasn't sure what it could be, but by now, he knew better than to underestimate Neal. 

Then, he remembered all these operations when Neal went off-script and everyone was sure that Neal was playing his own angle and in the end, Neal made sure that everyone, including the FBI, came out on top. 

Jones didn't feel completely safe with Caffrey around, he knew there were plenty of things he couldn’t trust him with, but he felt safer with him than with any other criminal he's ever met. 

And, ironically, safer than with at least 50% of law enforcement officers he worked with either. 

Maybe even more than 50%. 

Much more.

"Clinton, I am serious. In order for this to work, you must trust me. I know this world better than you do", Neal added after a moment, his voice oddly quiet, yet convincing, catching Jones off-guard with the way he used his first name. 

"I know we're on the same side, Neal. I hope you know that too" 

_I hope you don’t feel like we take you there as a punishment. I hope you know you’re not expendable. I hope you know I will have your back and above all, I hope you’re not scared shitless now, because you are feeling like once the door shuts behind you, you will end up being stuck there for years._

Neal gave out one more, humourless chuckle. 

"That really will be quite a test, won't it?" 

"To the tests, then", Clint answered, raising his bottle. 

"To the tests"


	2. Day One, 7:00 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter & Neal chapter. 
> 
> In case you're wondering, the story is set somewhere in the first part of season 4. It may not necessarily go well with the timeline, but I want you to know where the characters are emotionally and in terms of their relationships (though there is a tiny part of this chapter that has season 5/season 6!Neal vibe to it). 
> 
> Thank you for comments and all the kudos! As this is the first thing I've ever published and the first thing I have written in a VERY long time, so every kudos you leave makes me jump with excitement :)

When he heard the knock on the door in the morning, he was all dressed and ready to go.

(As much as he ever would, at least)

He was sitting on his terrace, admiring the view and lazily enjoying the best Italian roast and French toast that Valerie, June's maid, could ever prepare. 

It was the last good breakfast that he would have for a while. 

(No, he couldn't allow himself to think this way) 

The day before, before Jones came over, he had said his goodbyes to June and Mozzie. Both felt understandably wary about this certain operation and how it could affect Neal. They didn't try to coddle him, at least, more like expressed their reservation about the mission and most of all, they simply were there for him. 

(Mozzie had especially a lot of reservations, worrying that it may be some elaborate ruse to put Neal behind bars again, created by feds too worried that Neal may make run for it during the transportation. His little friend made it clear that he was absolutely ready to hunt the suits down in case Neal stayed in prison more than it was necessary and was already preparing some jail break plans, for the very same reason) 

"The door is open", Neal shouted, wanting to stay on the balcony for just a little while longer. Just a moment later he heard the door being open and then, Peter appeared in front of him. 

"So, I guess your dream has finally come true", he said, giving Peter his trademark Caffrey grin. "Coffee?" 

"Yes, everytime I land you in prison our chit chat gets a tad bit longer, so I guess it is only fair we have coffee now", Peter answered, sarcastically, though there was no humor to it. He sounded tired, like he had slept very badly the night before. Neal wondered briefly if it was because of him. 

He just gave him another grin, not as bright this time, and a bit more crooked, as he poured Peter his coffee. 

Good he told Valerie to bring two cups.

"And for what it is worth, throwing you in prison feels hardly rewarding, when you are just sitting here, waiting for me", Peter added, after a moment, which earned him the most mocking "s-e-r-i-o-u-s-l-y?" stare he has ever seen. 

Yeah, of course. It may not be the first time when Neal is ‘just sitting and waiting for him'. 

"Oh, stop giving me that look. You know what I mean", Peter groaned, which, in turn, made Neal give out a small chuckle. 

"Jones told me he talked to you last evening. To be fair, I wanted to come as well, but he insisted it is better if it is just the two of you. And well, he pointed out we would see each other for the ride anyway" 

"For the ride. Once again. Won't they find it suspicious that these are not the marshalls bringing me in?" 

"We went over it. You're non-violent, you don't pose a physical threat, and as for your flight risk issues, until you step behind the prison gates, you are wearing a tracking anklet. For you, it is harder to get out of than leg irons. They will buy that".

At least about that, Peter sounded self-assured.

One thing down, thousands to go. 

"Good", Neal answered, absent-mindedly, the black of his coffee suddenly too interesting for Peter's liking.

"Neal, are your nervous?", Peter asked suddenly, his voice softer than before, fatherly almost. 

Neal sighed. 

"Of course I am nervous, I would be stupid not to. A lot of things can go wrong during this one and the back up won't be as close as it usually is", he answered, matter-of-factly, not bullshitting Peter and all. "But you know that challenge and adrenaline is what I like and that I am the best man for the job", and, after a moment. "We've been over it, Peter" 

"You know we are not leaving you there, right?" 

"Unless I misbehave?", Neal raised his brow, the look he was giving Peter now screaming ‘challenge’.

"You always misbehave. Have I thrown you back to prison yet?"

Another 'seriously?' stare. 

Peter groaned again. 

"I mean, for misbehaving. Not because you were framed, sent there for an undercover operation or for any other reason that I can't consider misbehaving" 

( _Like the plane with a girl you used to consider a love of your life blowing into flames right in front of you_ ) 

"You are saying, despite the threats you make at least three times a day, you will never throw me to prison for... Misbehaving?"

He looked at Peter expectantly, his smile too smug.

"There is a difference between misbehaving and actively commiting crimes"

"You are no fun"

"Cowboy up"

They exchanged smiles, but there wasn't much humour to it. It looked more tired and forced, than anything else. Bickering felt nice and familiar but it was nothing more than a welcome distraction to a difficult and stressful situation. 

"Seriously, Neal. We have your back there, it is only an undercover operation, this time it is not real" 

_Nor deserved._ , Peter wanted to add, but he knew better than to stroke Neal's ego too much or try to coddle him. Instead, he got up and put a hand on his' CI arm, the gesture both familiar and reassuring. 

Neal allowed himself to relax into it for a moment, then he got up himself, realizing it was time to go. 

"I know, Peter. I am fine, really. Don't worry, I am as much on my game as always, I won't screw it up" 

"Good. Good" 

If Peter thought that Neal not being on him game wasn't the only thing that was worrying him, he didn't let it show. 

"Ready?", he asked, once again. 

(He will probably ask in the car, as well. And then right before handing Neal over) 

"Yeah, sure", Neal answered, leading him to the door. He grabbed the duffel bag waiting for him on the table – nothing more than some cigarretes, to use as a currency, and a sketchpad to keep himself occupied during the long hours of his cell being locked.

(Perks of maximum security, Neal hated how it was going to slow him down, but then, it was also a challenge).

Right in front of the door he stopped and turned around to face Peter once again.

"Cuffs?", he asked, calmly, not putting his hands out yet, but surely looking like he was ready to. 

(Neal hoped Peter will cuff him in front, as he usually did. Not only it’d feel more dignified, but also being cuffed in the back for over an hour long ride didn’t seem like the most comfortable thing in the world) 

Peter's first instinct, on the other hand, was to make some sarcastic comment about Neal being able to get out of any cuffs within less than 30 seconds anyway, but then he paused and thought better of it. 

"Later", he answered, his voice sharp and matter-of-fact, but his gaze soft. 

_There is no point of doing it now. They're just for the show. I just need the guys inside to see tchem_ , were comments left unspoken. 

Neal nodded in understanding, appreciating the gesture, even, if it felt like a pragmatic thing to do. 

Because if it was, say, Jones, posing as inmate, no one would even think about cuffing any earlier than it was strictly necessary. 

"Yeah", Neal answered, reaching the handle and opening the door, trying to look like it didn't take all his willpower to get his body to move. 

"Let's go, then" 

 

...

 

"Are you sure you have the plan of the building, including all the camera blind spots memorized?", Peter asked, as they were reaching the huge building complex that was Sing Sing. Lots of giant concrete walls and all. Home, sweet, home, Neal thought drily. 

"Yeah, Peter", Neal asked, really hoping that his frustration was showing. "I was the one that drew the plan for you and showed you these spots, remember?"

"Have I mentioned that I find your knowledge of the security system in the building that was technically supposed to hold you frightening?"

Neal chuckled. 

"Within last few weeks? At least fifty times. Also, 'was supposed to hold me'" is a good choice words" 

That's how the ride has passed, disscusing details of the operation once again, all straight to the point and professional, with occasional snark thrown here and there.

(The most snark showed everytime Peter felt obliged to once again remind Neal about something, that Neal either had already heard about at least fifty times more, or, which happened significantly more often, Neal was more expert on to begin with. 

But then, there were so many unknown variables in play, so many things to be careful about, not to mention, Neal's particularly precarious position was also a cause for concern, so Neal couldn't blame Peter for being more stressed than usual. 

In fact, he felt touched.) 

"Almost there. Ready?"

"How many times will you ask?"

"As I said, we're almost there, so most probably, I won't have a lot of opportunities left", Peter answered, reaching for his cuffs. "Put them on", he ordered, making it sound casual, as he handed cuffs to Neal, his eyes still on the road. 

"Not wanna do the honours? I am hurt", Neal answered, sarcastically, as he snapped the cuffs on his wrists, trying to make it look as casual as possible, like he wasn't bracing himself for it or anything. 

He reminded himself that he was the one who put them on and that, indeed, he could take them off. 

And contrary to what Peter thought, it would take MUCH less than 30 seconds.

He wouldn't even need a paper clip.

"Neal, dammit, tighten them a little”, Peter said suddenly, the frustration is his voice slightly-over-the-top, especially given the hints of amusement that he tried to conceal. "These guys will think I am a fool if they see that my personal flight risk, escape artist felon wears cuffs so loose than he could slip them within 5 seconds or so"

Oooops. 

Neal looked at Peter with a hint of indignation on his face, and when it looked like Peter wasn't going to change his mind, he sighed and tightened the cuffs. 

Only then he realized that Peter didn't even have to look at him to know how he put his cuffs on.

"I taught you too many of my tricks", he murmured, with resignation.

Peter gave him one of his smug, I-am-a-this-smart-FBI-agent-who-caught-Neal-Caffrey-smiles.

(Well, maybe not exactly gave him, because Neal could see only back of Peter's head and a bit of his profile, but he was pretty sure that it was there)

And then, they saw the Sing Sing building complex. 

"Home, sweet home", Neal said quietly, trying to ignore the tight knot in his stomach. He had to relax. He had to look at it as a challenge. He could do it. 

"Are you..."

"...ready. Yeah, you know the answer" 

Peter wasn't sure if it was comforting. 

As they entered the gate and looked for a place to park, Neal decided to finally say something that had been on his mind since he first learnt about the op. At first he wanted to bring it up immediately, then he thought about bring it up after the op is done.

Now he felt like if he wanted to go through with this mission, he had to do it now.

"Peter...", he started, quietly. Peter just stopped the engine and turned around, facing Neal, waiting. 

"I need you to do me a favour", Neal started, putting extra emphasis on the word 'need'. 

"What is it?", Peter asked, calmly, so unlike the usual impatient and exasperated he got everytime Neal wanted something from him. Maybe it was the situation, maybe something about Neal's voice that told him it was serious.

Very serious.

Neal was silent for a moment, playing with the chains between his cuffs.

When he finally spoke, his tone was deliberately slow, calm and quiet, yet somehow – forceful. One of Neal’s "convincing" tones.

"When I go there," he started, "if I want to stay alive and if I want the mission to go well, I will have to convince them that I am not working for the feds. In fact, I have to convince them that I was basically forced into working for you"

Peter nodded. He knew it already. They discussed it, a few times. Which means, there had to be more. 

So he just waited, patiently. 

"As I said before, I can pull it off. I can. The thing is, I can do it only once", Neal continued, quietly, his voice so grave and serious that it made Peter uncomfortable. 

Again, Peter didn't interrupt him. Something told Neal that his handler, boss and a friend had similar thoughts on his own.

"I need, and I repeat it, I **need** you to promise me that if you decide to send me back to prison, it won't be the same one. Not even the same part of the country, preferably", Neal took a deep breathe, as if trying to calm himself. "Peter, we both know I may be many things, but I don't deserve death or years of being locked in solitary", he finished, looking straight in Peter's eyes. There was something about this stare that made Peter feel taken aback. Something about Neal's voice he’d never heard before.

He expected Neal making this kind of request. 

He expected Neal to sound either vulnerable, on the edge of begging, or masking his vulnerability, with some entitlement-brat-acting-all-entitled, full of over-the-top bravado act. 

But Neal he just heard gave vibes of self assured, on the verge on demanding in a way, that Peter has never heard from him before. It wasn't confidence that was supposed to mask vulnerability. That was confidence coming from a place of vulnerability. 

Which made a huge difference and gave Peter a lot to think about. 

He could brush it off with some "you could just try this staying of prison thing" comment and keep going, but again, it didn't seem fitting. 

"You have my word", he answered, taking his chances and not adding something along the lines of 'but as long as I can help it, you are not going back to prison', hoping, that Neal will read it right and take this as something so obvious, that it is not even worth mentioning. 

Neal nodded in understanding, their eyes meeting once again. Yeah. Peter was positive that to Neal, this part was obvious.


	3. Day One, 9:00 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning: graphic depiction of strip search**

Once they entered the biggest building of the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, all the gates slamming shut behind him and Peter escorting him towards the guards who were supposed to pick him up and take him into processing, it took all Neal’s willpower to relax and stop his very strong urge to bolt. For a moment, he considered masking his feelings with his practiced conman bravado, but eventually, he opted for acting calm and impassive, schooling his facial expression into something he hoped looked blank and void of emotion.

(If Peter noticed his jaw tightening and his eyes getting this wider-and-bluer-than-usual look, he didn’t say anything. Small mercies.)

What he did, though, was tightening the grip on his arm a bit, as if he wanted to restrain Neal, make sure he won’t run.

Neal’s reaction was to flinch.

Feel betrayed.

And that Peter noticed for sure, because in a split second, his grip loosened again, and Neal heard his handler murmuring quiet "It’s ok", something only for him to hear, as opposed to the guard who just came through the gate, apparently to escort him.

Which lead to conclusion that Peter tighteting his grip on his arm wasn’t about restraining him, but about reassuring him.

Damn, he really allowed this place to condition him, didn’t he? And now it was all coming back, flooding his mind.

(The sound of the gates slamming shut being something that he particularly couldn’t get used to.)

"Agent Burke, right? And this is Neal Caffrey?", the guard said as a way of greeting. Neal didn’t recognize this one. Didn’t look like a newbie, so maybe he was just moved from a different block. Or he had worked in a different prison before.

"Yes, that would be us", Peter answered, calmly, and Neal, as much as his cuffs and the grip on his arm allowed him, raised one of his hands and gave the guy something resembling mockery of a wave, adding his trademark Caffrey grin to that, wide and bright.  It was quick, though, because he really didn’t want to push it. Not yet.

"Lucas Montgomery. We were informed about your call, agent. Is he going to cause trouble? ", the guard asked, ignoring him.

"He’s non violent, but he’s also a confidence man, which means he preys on _trust_ and impressionability. You can expect he will try to manipulate you", Peter answered, his voice all calm and professional. It made Neal feel… awkward.

He wondered how often Peter discussed him like he was a pet to be trained.

He understood it was a part of the job, hell, now it was just a part of undercover mission, but still, it felt a bit… disturbing?

The feeling of betrayal came back, but only for a moment.

It’s not like their relationship had ever been easy or normal.

Or, the other way around. Maybe their relationship was TOO easy, given the circumstances.

"You’re saying that he can charm me into submission?", the guard asked, laughing, Peter didn’t laugh in return. He didn’t even smile.

"I am saying he can and he will", he answered in this tone he used everytime he tried to talk some sense into people, all serious, a bit annoyed, very convincing, with hints of hostility to indicate that there was no lost love between Burke and Caffrey these days.

"Alright. I guess I can take him from here", the guard said, at last, and then, there were different cuffs and a different grip on his arm.

(Hinged cuffs. Nice.)

 

 

~~~~

 

After finishing some initial required paperwork, signing forms and all (which, by the way, extremely annoying things to do if you are wearing handcuffs), and the anklet being taken off (the moment it was taken off, he almost missed the familiarity of its weight on his ankle), Neal was on his way to the intake room.

(The number of forms was limited, at least. He was a new inmate, after all, just one returned from the work-release)

Once on his way to the intake Neal realized, to his surprise, that he really hoped to see Jones there.

Yes, it felt particularly humilitating to be ordered around like a dog and strip-searched by someone who he came to consider his teammate and maybe even friend, not to mention someone who usually saw him in different circumstances, vintage suits, fedora, self-confidence and all, but since previous night, Neal really managed to get used to this thought and even made his peace with it.

And it’s not like he didn’t consider some of Sing Sing COs his friends, or, at least, something close to that. Of course, it was different, because with the COs it was their dynamic from the start, but…

…but wasn’t his first meeting with Jones about the agent putting cuffs on him (right after confirming his suspicion that the van really sucks)? Not to mention, Jones usually was the one to put on and take off his tracking anklet and Neal hardly paid attention anymore, nor he gave a damn. Standard procedure, nothing more.

Hell, it was all messed up. But it was his life and more often that not, he could live with it and even treat it with healthy amount sense of humour, turning difficult things into nothing more than just mild annoyances. Often, he even appreciated all the irony and ridiculousness.

Luckily, as they were nearing the intake room, it indeed Jones who showed at the door, apparently to pick him up.

"Good morning", he started politely, to which Neal answered with equally polite nod. ‘’It’s Mr Caffrey, isn’t it?’’

"Correct", Neal answered, opting for polite, calm and as neutral as possible. He hoped they’d sell this _we don’t know each other_ act well.

"My name is Clinton Edwards and I am the Correctional Officer responsible for your intake process. From what I heard, you’re familiar with the procedure?"

"I am", Neal answered, again choosing the shortest and straight to the point answer. It was how he acted when he was in Sing Sing for the first time – calm, poised, polite, not causing trouble. Obeying all the orders automatically and without hesitation, not taking anything personally, just treating everything as nothing more than standard procedures and trying not to make COs’ jobs difficult. Once he got comfortable with someone, he allowed himself some jokes and snark, but never crossing the line of rude or, as he hoped, too annoying.

There were also moments, albeit rare once, when he opted for turning to his infamous self-confidence and self-assurance if it was safer for him to look like he was in control of the situation.

Or using manipulation or even forms of intimidation, if it was necessary.

(You don’t need to be known as someone physically dangerous to intimidate people. Sometimes it’s enough to let people know how smart you are and how easy it’d be for you to screw them over without them being able to predict when it hits them.)

Sometimes, it was all about some charm, offering emotional suport and letting the right people know that it’s more beneficial to them for you to stay in one piece, because you’re the best chess partner they can find on the block.

"Good. So we should finish quickly. Let’s go", Jones said, using his best ex-military voice.

Neal compared it to the mental imagine of all these times when Jones did or said something extremely goofy and hell, commanding ex-military Jones suddenly felt almost ridiculous.

It helped Neal relax a little, as he was entering the dreadful room.

White walls. Blinding light. Smell of chemicals that he couldn’t really put the finger on.

"Mr Caffrey, the first part of procedure will be conducted with assistance of CO Montgomery here", Jones pointed at the guy who escorted him. "It’s necessary to ensure you don’t have any weapons on you. We will check you with a wand and conduct a throughout patdown. For the duration of the procedure, you will remain cuffed", Jones explained, patiently, professionaly. Neal had to hold back his smile. If it was any guards he knew, they would just say something like ‘ _let’s go, Caffrey, you know the drill, gonna do the patdown first’_. But of course, Jones, or rather, CO Edwards, was new to the job, not to mention, he was meeting Neal Caffrey, inmate he absolutely had never met nor heard of before, so he had to stay professional.

(Maybe the ‘never heard of’ part was stretching it. After all, Neal was known for achievements such as escaping from a maximum security prison, so it was possible that the guards were gossiping about him during the lunch break. He wondered why he hadn’t asked Jones yet.)

"Understood?"

Neal nodded.

"Understood"

"Do you have any weapon on you?"

"No"

"Sharp objects?"

"No"

"Drugs?"

"I don’t do drugs", Neal answered, testing Jones’ reaction.

"That’s not what I asked", Jones answered, sharply. Good. They could sell it.

"No, I don’t have drugs"

"Alright. Soon I will give you a box to put your personal belongings in, together with your clothes. You will be able to retrieve them once your sentence is over. But before we do that, can you please tell me what objects do you have on you now?"

"Just my wallet"

"What’s inside? "

"Only my ID and credit card, some cash"

"Nothing else? Are you sure?"

Neal felt like shrugging, but even small movement like that were dangerous when you were in a room with two guys who took into consideration that you could try to strangle them any moment.

(Or at least that was something they were supposed to consider.)

"Things I want in my cell I’ve already left to be checked out", he answered simply.

"Before we let you reach your pockets, we have to check it", Jones answered, at last, reaching the wand that so far rested on the metal table placed in the middle of the room.

"Step on the yellow line, please. Spread your legs. Don’t move unless you’re instructed to", he ordered, pointing at thick the line painted on the floor, a bit to Neal’s right. Neal complied, positioning himself on the side of the line opposite to Jones, with his back to the wall, tiptoes touching the yellow, his legs spread slightly.

Yes, he knew the drill.

His face stayed blank when Jones ran the wand over his body, taking his time, checking him inch by inch. Neal had to say his was impressed, Jones really did this CO in maximum security thing well. Or maybe he just wanted to annoy him. Anyway, it was just the beginning and it already felt like forever.

"Alright, done", he said, finally, as he turned around to retrieve a medium size plastic box from the white cabinet, which took up the space of the whole wall the Neal was facing now.

"Please, put your wallet here", Jones ordered.

Neal slowly reached his pocket, retrieved the wallet and put it in the container that Jones held out to him.

"Thank you. Now we’re moving onto the patdown. Face the wall, please. Leave your feet on the yellow line"

Neal nodded in understanding, then obeyed the order, really regretting that Montgomery was still here. Given the way that the cameras were positioned and the fact that there is was no audio, he could talk to Jones and no one would be able to tell what they were talking about based on their facial expressions or using lip-reading techniques.

Jones approached him from behind and Neal heard the sound of the latex gloves.

He could never understand while they insisted of wearing gloves even for the patdowns.

"I am starting the patdown", Jones announced and Neal had to force himself to relax his muscles. Because, even though he was still wearing clothes, it was already invasive. It was more than light touch on the arms, waist and legs, as in the movies are as it was done in the places that didn’t require as much security. The fact he had to be checked 3 times for the same thing could feel ridiculous for him, but he knew that in a place like Sing Sing, guards who weren’t careful enough could get killed.

When Jones landed his hand for the first time, groping the area of his arms in a manner that felt both rough and invasive, it threw Neal off-balance.

Literally.

Because he was used to be a bit handsy with Jones, pats on the arm and all, but that was nothing like that. And he got seriously unaccustomed to how these searches in maximum security felt like.

He was felt himself falling face-first towards the wall, cuffs not allowing him to put his hands in front of him to stop the collision, he felt a hand catching his arm to steady him. Initially, he thought it was Montgomery, since Jones was probably too preoccupied with the search to notice, but the other guard was just there, observing the situation and not giving a damn that inmate’s nose could get broken without said inmate’s fault.

"Sorry, man", Jones murmured, a bit awkwardly, still keeping the steadying hand on his arm instead of continuing with the search. "You ok?"

"Yeah, just got startled. I grew a bit unaccustomed to those and the cuffs don’t help", he explained calmly, a sardonic smile forming on his face. He wasn’t sure whether he was saying it to CO Edwards or agent Jones now. Maybe to both.

"It’s alright. And don’t worry about the cuffs, if everything is alright, they go off quickly"

_Together with my clothes and dignity,_ Neal thought.

Though after almost hitting the wall face-first, Neal felt like his dignity had been lost already.

"Is it ok if I continue?"

"Sure, go ahead, and I promise not to make your job more difficult by breaking my face on your watch", Neal joked, turning around slightly to give Jones a crooked smile.

"Don’t worry, man. It’s my job to ensure that nothing like that happens", Jones answered, and once again, Neal wasn’t sure whether it was the agent or the CO speaking.

He hoped that Montgomery won’t part of this exchange suspicious.

For all he knew, Montgomery could be one of the jerks they had to hunt down.

 

~~~~

 

The rest of the search went without issues, though Jones hesitated slightly when his hands reached Neal’s genital area. Only after a moment, he continued, after all, they were being watched and it’s not like Neal didn’t have to go through it before. Neal also noted how careful his friend slash guard, as if he tried really hard not to startle him again, while at the same time, he managed to make it look professional and thorough. His hands still felt rough and probing, but not more than it was necessary.

"Alright, we are done", he announced at last, taking step back. "Take off the cuffs, so far, he’s clean", he added, adressing Montgomery. As CO took off the cuffs, Neal massaged his wrists.

"Can I turn around?", he asked, his voice nothing but polite.

"Sure, sorry, should’ve told you", Jones said, from his spot next to the table. When Neal turned around and relaxed a little, he saw that Jones was going through some forms.

"I am gonna go", Montgomery said, attaching the cuffs that Neal had previously worn to his belt. "In case he causes trouble, you know what to do, right?", he asked Jones, apparently remembering that he was dealing with a newbie in the team.

"Caffrey, are you going to cause trouble?", Jones asked, not taking his eyes off the form.

"Nope", Neal answered, still massaging his wrists. There were some red lines on them. These handcuffs were put on particularly tight.

"See, he won’t cause trouble. You can go", Jones said, dismissively. Montgomery just snorted, probably thinking something along the lines of ‘may you be in for a surprise, naive asshole’, and left, basically slamming the door behind him.

The moment the door slammed shut behind the guard, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

"That wasn’t smart", Neal noted, this time rather pretending to still massage his wrist rather than really doing it out of necessity. This way, he was sure that he wasn’t facing the camera.

"He was pissing me off", Jones answered simply, handing Neal the form and the pen.

"You know you’re not supposed to hand me the pen, right? According to the security regulation, I could kill you with that by stabbing you in the eye", Neal said casually, pretending to look over the form and actually read it.

It was good that the camera was behind Jones’ back, because he look seriously dumbfounded.

Neal smirked, filling the form. At least this wouldn’t take long, given he didn’t have a lot of personal items with him.

"You’re messing with me"

That wasn’t a question.

Neal smirked again.

"And here I thought you were stressed. You’ve finished it?", Jones asked, pointing at the form.

"Yeah, here", Neal handed him the form and Jones had to take a few steps to reach it, because, to his surprise, Caffrey refused to move even an inch from the yellow line. Even though Jones was aware that it was simply a part of the protocol and that even though they were alone, they were still closely monitored, it still made him feel uncomfortable.

As he placed the form on the table and turned to face Neal, he hesitated for a moment. He really didn’t want to embarass Neal, he wanted to be as professional and straight to the point as possible, but no matter what, Neal was a friend and Jones was no fool – this situation had to be extremely difficult for him.

(It’s not like Jones thought that Neal didn’t deserve prison, whether it was the actual facility or just the anklet. Neal has broken the law repeatedly, just because he could and he showed over and over again, than he felt zero remorse, he was even proud of it. But Neal also had his back during operations, sometimes at the expense of his own safety. Neal listened, when Jones needed someone to listen. Neal made him laugh and patted him on the back and he was a friend and teammate and now he was probably in distress and he deserved some support. Not to mention, Jones was also a human and it’s not like he’s never shown sympathy towards distressed criminals in their custody. He even showed a lot of sympathy to Caffrey, when they arrested him for the first time)

"Are you ok?", he asked after split second that felt like forever. He didn’t look at Neal, though. He looked at the yellow line.

Neal sighed.

"I’m fine. I know what you’re thinking. I am not supposed to move, I mean, you have baton and I know how they work", he said, casually, and it took all of Jones’ willpower not to look at him in alarm. He always imagined that Caffrey was a model prisoner, except for the part when he escaped, of course, so what did he did to deserve…

"Sarah has one of these", Neal said, after a moment.

Bastard.

"She also has cuffs"

Jones wanted to retort that _so does he_ , but they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in", Jones shouted, a hint of surprise in his voice, as he saw a young guard entering the room.

"Edwards", the guard greeted. "Neal", he added.

First name basis, interesting.

"Hi, Rick", Neal answered, casually, giving the guy a small wave.

Jones looked between them.

"You two know each other?", he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

The guard, García, or, as Neal called him, Rick, gave out a small chuckle.

"Be happy that you didn’t work here when our friend here made run for it, or rather, casually walked out of the front door. What he pulled off makes shows like Prison Break look ridiculous. He was the first one in years, a lot of us were seriously afraid for their jobs after that"

To Jones surprise, Neal looked almost.. remorseful? Or he acted remorseful, at least.

(Neal was exceptionally good at acting remorseful, when he wanted to.)

"Sorry, guys", he said.

"At least we had something to talk about", Rick answered, smiling.

"That’s why you came here? You think that since he is a flight risk, I may be in need of assistance? ", Jones asked, making it sound casual, though in fact, he was worried. He didn’t want Neal to go through this ordeal with someone else in the room.

"No, I am not going to assist you, but you’re right about a part of it. Since he’s a flight risk, the warden requested precautions. As long as he behaves, he is not going to the Special Housing Unit, but we have to search both him and his cell more often than usual. He also request full manual instead of only visual"

Shit.

No SHU was a good news. Good for the operation, anyway. Because if Neal was supposed to go to solitary, they would just pull him out of here, which, in light of new revelations, could be better for him.

Jones allowed himself to look at Neal and to his surprise, he found Neal looking oddly… Calm? Not surprised. Not nervous. Not shocked.

"Alright, is there anything else?", Jones asked, using his perfect military facade to make sure that nothing showed on his face.

"No. That’s all. You know the procedure, right?"

"Sure"

"Good. I am leaving you guys, then"

"Hey, Rick"

It was Neal this time. The guard stopped.

"How is Nat?", Neal asked, his tone both friendly and genuinely curious.

_Who the fuck is Nat._

Rick looked a bit awkward.

"We broke up", he said, after a moment of hesitation.

"Sorry about that"

"Life"

Neal chuckled bitterly.

"Yeah, you know, if you need to talk, I kind of have a lot of time now"

It was Rick’s time to chuckle.

"I know where to find you", he said and then, he left.

 

~~~~

 

After the guard, Rick, had left, Neal didn’t waste his time as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"A friend? ", Jones prompted.

"You could say that", Neal answered casually, focusing on the buttons. "He was ok, so was his girlfriend. She also works here, or worked, at least"

"You weren’t surprised"

Neal didn’t pretend not to understand what the comment was about.

"Standard procedure for the biggest flight risk. I expected that. In fact, I am surprised the notified you only now, I thought you knew"

"You ok?"

"I will live"

He handed Jones the shirt, and Jones put it in the box, after running his hands over that.

"The undershirt", he said, when Neal didn’t hand him another piece of clothing. He wanted to make it sound casual, but somehow, it came out as an order, harsher than he intended. It had to be something about these circumstances.

"Sorry", Neal answered, and proceeded to take off his white undershirt. Jones kind of hoped that Neal would keep going without him having to bark orders at him, but maybe it’d be more natural and less awkward and simply easier, if he just walked him through it.

One shoe, the other.

Socks, the same way.

(Neal shivered slightly when his bare feet hit the cold tiles).

"Ok, pants", he said, hoping that his voice sounded at least a bit gentle. Neal hesitated just for a moment, and then proceded to unbuckle his belt.

"You’re supposed to give me orders, you know. Imagine we’re in conference room and you tell me, step by step, what to do during the op", he said calmly, his eyes trained on the pants he was taking off. He was really good at this avoiding the camera and making it sound natural thing.

"You telling me you’re ok or you’re teaching me how to work a con? "

Tiny, lopsided smile showed on Neal’s face and Jones that that was all the answer he would get.

"Alright, take off your underwear", Jones instructed at least, with a slight sigh, but Neal was already on it, at first taking it slow, but once he pulled the boxers down his knees he went faster, as if he wanted it to be done and over with as soon as possible.

The moment he handed over his boxers, he shivered, slightly.

"Alright?", Jones asked, without looking at Neal, reaching the plastic container once again.

"Fine", Neal answered, and when Jones looked at Neal again, he was surprised to find him relatively relaxed. He didn’t even try to cover himself, something that was first instinct of a lot of people subjected to strip search.

Then, it wasn’t Neal’s first rodeo, so it was logical he wouldn’t see the point.

The only sign that Neal wasn’t completely at ease was the way he was tightening his jaw, a tell that Jones had noticed long time ago.

As Jones put the last piece of Neal’s clothes in plastic container, he schooled his expression into something that he hoped resembled neutral and professional, hoping that it may be easier if he stays cold and clinical, instead of acting friendly. Maybe it will allow Neal to forget who he was dealing with and it would make things easier for both or them.

Direct approach. Getting into roles.

Much easier than balancing the thin line between the roles they were appointed and the people they actually were.

(Jones wondered briefly if it was how Peter felt, having to balance his role as Neal’s friend and Neal’s handler.)

"You know what’s going to happen now?", he asked, making his tone sound professional, harsher than before. In the meantime, he snapped another pair of gloves.

"Yes. You’re going to perform full manual body search in order to make sure that I am not in possession of any contraband concealed on my body", Caffrey answered, sounding calm. Something along the lines of a small, sardonic smirk appeared on his face.

(They both knew that out of the two of them, it wasn’t Caffrey who would smuggle the contraband)

Inside joke or not, the way Caffrey spoke meant he also assumed the role. Good. It could make it easier.

"Alright. I will start from your hair"

"Sure"

He ran his hands through Neal’s hair, slowly, repeating the movements a few times. Then, using a small flashlight, he checked his ears, both inside and behind. After that, came his nose.

(Honestly, how can you smuggle something inside your nose?)

 

~~~~

 

Neal had to admit that Jones’ movements were professional, methodical. He smoothly moved from one part of his body to another, always making sure to name the place he was about to check.

After his hair, nose and ears, came his mouth.

Neal didn’t like this part.

(Back when he was in prison, at some point it turned into nothing more than a mild annoyance. Now, he realized that he was bracing himself – feeling latex in his mouth always made him feel like throwing up.)

 "Open your mouth, please", Jones instructed. "Wider, please", he added, after a moment. Neal forced himself to relax his jaw.

"Alright, that must do", Jones said, finally, firstly using to flashlight to check inside his mouth.

( _Tongue up, tongue down, stick your togue out, please, thank you_ )

Then, he put his fingers inside, slowly yet firmly, warning Neal about what was about to come beforehand. He ran his fingers over Neal’s gums, both in front of his teeth and behind. Neal noticed that Jones tried to be gentle, with the way he was probing his mouth, but he wasn’t man particularly known for being delicate – still, it could be worse.

And even though the fingers weren’t that deep, Neal felt his gag reflex kicking in.

He focused on breathing through his nose. It’s going to be over quickly.

The moment Jones withdrew his finger, he gasped for air. It felt like coming to the surface after diving in some deep, stinky waters.

"I really forgot how I hate the taste of latex", he mumbled to Jones, who looked at him sympathetically, nodding in understanding.

"You ready to continue? ", he asked, his tone rather neutral, no indication that he was rushing him. Neal nodded.

"Alright, spread your arms", Jones instructed in response.

As he did so, Jones ran his hands along his torso, and back. Then, his arms, armpits, fingers and the area between them.

Then, Jones went lower. Again, he hesitated a bit before checking his penis, and after Neal gave him a slight nod and spread his legs a bit more to give the other man easier access, Jones checked all the required area in a way, that could be described as nothing but clinical.

(Some guards, especially ones who’ve worked here long and already turned frustrated and bitter, as opposed to idealistic, liked to make some derogatory comments while doing this part. At first, Neal felt humiliated. Later, he learnt what to say to make them shut up without risk of facing retaliation)

Most of them were ok, though. Professional, even friendly. There was a time, when Neal was perfectly used to going for a small talk while undressing.)

After checking his legs, feet and toes, Jones told him to turn around.

He wasn’t looking at him.

"Face the wall, legs spread", he instructed.

Neal complied and, facing the wall, awaiting the inevitable, which felt like forever.

Finally, he felt Jones standing right behind him. He heard another snap of gloves.

"I’m going to perform anal cavity search now", he announced and all Neal could think was _oh, really._

"The first phase is visual. Please, bend forward a little and use your hands to spread your cheeks for me. I will use the flashlight to check your anal cavity"

Neal did as he was told.

"Now squat and cough"

Again, Neal complied without a word. This part was still something he could do automatically, even after two years break. 

"Alright, now hands against the wall. I will perform the manual part. It may feel a bit cold. Try to relax. Ready?"

"Yeah"

He heard Jones sigh.

"Alright"

He felt the touch on his entrance, the gloved finger wet and cold. Gentle, yet firm enough.

He took a deep breathe, forcing himself to stand still.

The finger slowly made his way inside, the touch nothing but clinical.

He probably clenched his muscles without realizing it, because the intrusion caused more discomfort than it was supposed to. He felt Jones stopping for a moment, as if he noticed that too.

He forced himself to relax again.

After all, it wasn’t the first time he was subjected to the procedure and what kind of a conman would he be if he couldn’t control his responses of his own body?

He could cheat the lie detector test, damn it.

Jones kept going.

A few seconds later, he felt the finger being withdrawn and he felt empty again.

Finally, he relaxed completely.

"Done. You can stand up and turn around. I will give you your uniform and then you can get dressed", Jones said, as Neal turned around.

Having discarded the gloves, Jones handed him a box of wet wipes.

Neal nodded and took them without a word, then, he wiped himself off, grateful to Jones who stayed facing the cabinet on the other side for a little longer than it was necessary.

Then, he was handed the whole set of prison clothes, including the dreadful orange jumpsuit.

 "You can get dressed", Jones said, simply, handing him the clothes.

"Thank you", Neal answered, politely, and started dressing up, looking at every piece of clothing with the biggest disgust he could muster.

"Not your usual style, huh?", he heard and when he looked up at Jones, he saw that the other man was staring at him in amusement.

"How did you figure it out?", Neal asked, sarcastically.

"Observational skills", Jones answered, casually. "I could say that I learned from the best".

And to that, Neal had to smile.

 

~~~~

 

Since Neal wasn't technically entering prison, just coming back from the work-release, Sing Sing kept his paperwork and all the formalities were reduced to minimum. 

Good. 

(He got the same number assigned to him - one thing that couldn't be changed. He was told that he would get a different cell this time, even, if the block was the same) 

There was still quite a lot of thing to do before he could start enjoying his stay in the cell, though. 

The check up with the prison nurse went quick. It was more of an interview, than medical exam, in fact. The nurse was clearly in hurry to get it over with and that was fine. 

(He was a bit disappointed when the nurse he saw wasn’t Deb – middle-aged, snarky, no-nonsense woman who worked here during his previous stay in the facility. He used his best Caffrey charm to convince the new nurse, Kimberly, her name tag said, to tell him what happened to Deb. Turned out, Deb still worked here, but currently, she was on a sick leave)

The conversation with the psychologist was another formality. And another disappointment. Neal expected to see Lucy, his previous psychologist. Lucy had this energy about her that made the place less dull, which made Neal enjoy talking to her, even, if he didn't really feel like he needed any form of therapy. Lucy was nice and respectful and full of energy and enthusiastic about her job, but she also enjoyed challenge and good puzzle. She was sharp and intelligent and Neal enjoyed playing some sort of a mental ping-pong with her. Sometimes he felt like she was Peter's substitute. Other time, she reminded him of Mozzie or Alex. 

But she didn't work here anymore and the new guy was dull and clearly bored with his job. His interview with Neal was basic, done just for the sake of being done. 

Neal wasn't impressed. 

He also wondered how he missed such a huge shift in the staff. 

 

(When he got out of Sing Sing for the first time, he got tabs on what was going inside all the time. It wasn't his priority back then, of course - Kate was - but of wasn't still one of the things that he had constantly on his mind. What was going on in Sing Sing. What would he do if Peter sent him back. How would he handle the life here and then, how would he run again. 

Later, the pressure to keep tabs on his former place of residence grew weaker, so did his creativity for figuring out new escape plans. 

Still, no matter how comfortable he became with his role as FBI consultant, how trusting he became with the idea that they wouldn't send him back to prison on a whim, he still kept some contingency plans, most of them shared with Mozzie. He would never be able to play the game of cat and mouse with Peter Burke for so long if he didn't have these.

Also, Moz taught him well.)

The meeting with the counselor was also quick: he was asked if he believed that he could be in danger if placed in General Population.

Neal said no. 

The man pointed out his history as the FBI consultant. 

Neal said that he worked for White Collar division and most guys here, are not White Collar criminals. He also hinted how anxious the idea of being placed in the protective custody made him feel. 

Luckily, the guy didn't press the issue any further. 

(Neal thought that it could be because the man was working for the enemy. He couldn’t really count this possibility out. ) 

The orientation...

There was no orientation. 

Neal was given the toiletries, bedclothes, spare underwear and prison-issued pijamas (the fabric certainly wasn't soft and certainly didn't smell of lavender) and led to the gates of his old-slash-new prison block. At the gates, he was welcomed by Bill - one of the guards he was relatively friendly with. Bill was in his fifties and he was one of the rough-around-the-edges types. His hair certainly seemed to get even more gray during these two years when Neal didn't seem him, though it didn't get any shorter. Bill had these relatively short curls that definitely needed a good haircut. 

He was the tough-love father figure on the block, not only for the convicts, but also for the younger guards. 

Most guys respected him. Almost all feared him. 

(Nat liked him for not going too soft on her and treating her like he did everyone else - not only Nat was one of not many female COs, she was also quite going, being in her late twenties, and her small frame made her look soft and delicate. Something that made some guys, inmates and guards alike, underestimate her. Their mistake).

Bill was also Deb’s husband.

"Caffrey", Bill greeted, a sardonic smile forming on his lips. "I’d like to say I am surprised", he added, somehow managing not to make it sound mean or malicious.

Neal laughed softly, when the older man took a hold of his arm.

"Can say the same. Nice to be remembered, by the way"

It was Bill’s turn to laugh.

"Your last stunt turned you into a celebrity here", and then, he turned more serious. "It’d be stupid to repeat it, kid"

Neal was quiet for a moment. Only when they reached his cell, the corridors unusually quiet (everyone was still in the rec room, probably), he decided to speak up. He put his things on the bunk and offered his wrists to be uncuffed.

"I heard that Deb is on sick leave", he prompted, casually.

"She is", Bill confirmed, taking his cuffs off. He didn’t elaborate, he just sounded… tired.

Neal decided it may not be the best time to press him.

"Send my best wishes", he said, simply, going for polite and serious, instead of his usual over-the-top charming voice.

 A quick nod was all the answer that Bill offered.

"Gotta go. Any questions? Do you remember everything?"

"For now, no questions"

"Good. Behave"

And then, one dreadful sound of a prison gate being slammed shut later, Neal was left alone.

He sat down on his bunk with a sigh, a tiny sardonic smile forming on his face.

Game on.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for all the kudos and comments - they're always welcome! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've watched White Collar recently (after discovering it through this website) and this perfect balance of goofiness and complexity got to me so much, that I just had to write something based on that, even though I haven't written anything for over 8 years. It's just one of the stories that popped up in my head and started having a life on its own. I hope I will be able to continue it, though my updates may be slow and irregular. 
> 
> English is not my first language, but I am trying. 
> 
> Expect it to be very dialogue heavy - I adore long conversations, even, if they seem useless.


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